Ultimate rivals
by IThinkIJustGleedMyself
Summary: A/U - It's hard sometimes, because they're so different. He's totally laid back and she's kind of a control freak, she always wants to be prepared about everything while he just goes with the flow. And, you know, he's a Jets fan and she's a Giants fan.


**I've had this idea for years, but I've only just been able to make a fic out of it. **

**Just so you know, I know absolutely nothing about American football (clueless English person here) so all my information is from google and the wonderful Gaby. So please don't judge me too harshly on any facts about it!**

**And for those waiting for an update of KHO, it's on its way. :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The first time they meet each other, she throws his hot dog to the floor, he pushes her ice cream into that stupid Giants jersey, and that's how it begins.

It's his first game, Burt wanting to have a bonding moment with his new step-son, not to mention that he's _finally_ got someone to share his football fanaticism with.

And it's awesome. They go the whole nine yards, buying caps (his keeps falling down to cover his eyes), jerseys (Finn beaming proudly at the outward display of affection for their team) and a _jets_ foam finger that devours all of the six year old's hand. In essence, it's pretty damn hard not to realize that he's there for the jets, and the jets only.

As though fate is on their side, they're winning; it's way past half time now, the score speaking for itself. He can barely keep his excitement inside, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watches the players in awe. He's going to be a football player one day, he swears. He smiles shyly up at Burt as the man placed his large hand on Finn's shoulder, squeezing gently.

But the fond moment is stolen from them as the girl next to him screams so loudly that he winces a little (well, _a lot_) and he has to hold his foam hand over his ear to protect it. While Burt looks peeved, Finn glares toward her and huffs. He then takes a bit bite of his hot dog, chewing in annoyance.

It's like he isn't even there, the girl jumping crazily, yelling at the top of her lungs – which, for the record, is a very high top. His eyes narrow when he notes her Giants jersey. Go figure. She hollers out again, fist angrily hitting the seat in front of her when a player fumbles the ball and it goes back to the other team. "Come on!" the girl drops back into her seat with a disgruntled groan, arms folding haughtily across her chest.

He tries to ignore her, he does. His six year old morals say that he shouldn't be mean to a girl, even if they are a Giants fan, but she just... she won't stop talking (to the tall man next to her who he guesses is her dad) or yelling at the players. And she keeps almost accidentally hitting him. But when she stands on her chair and shouts "encouragement" to the pitch, he can't hold it in any more.

Tugging at her jersey, he sets a harsh look at her. "Will you be quiet?"

She stills, big brown eyes moving down to him with a less than pleased expression. "There's nothing wrong with supporting your team," she announces, looking all high and mighty as she stands there (taller than him) on the aged seat.

She's sort of right – and yeah, Finn hates that – but he doesn't get any less annoyed. "You're being too loud," he complains, frowning. The words hissed toward her only make the girl's eyes darken, head snapping in the other direction so that she doesn't have to look at him. He keeps his gaze on her though, watching as another man comes to sit with them, handing her an ice cream with sauce _and_ sprinkles.

Finn tries to push down his jealousy at that, and focuses on the game. There's not much time left; the jets have this one in the bag. That doesn't stop little Miss loud mouth from giving it all she's got, eventually jumping down from the seat in order to get that little bit closer to the field.

But in her haste she tries to scramble too quickly, barging into Finn and knocking his hot dog to the grimy floor. His eyes lower to the ground, disappointment overwhelming him, before he glares her way. "Hey!" he shouts, "what was that for?"

She turns, only casting one measly glance to his now useless food, and then just stares at him.

"Finn," Burt gently says, "calm down, we'll get you another one."

The words fall on deaf ears as he reaches out to snatch the ice cream from her hand in a fit of anger. But once he has it, he doesn't really know what to do with it... He can't like, eat it or anything 'cause it's got her germs all over it.

"Give that back!" she demands, stomping her foot when he doesn't. "_Daddy_!"

Finn panics then, heart seizing, chest clenching – her Daddy is huge and big and scary, even scarier than his mom when she's angry at him. He can't just _give_ her the ice cream though; that's totally lame. So he sort of shoves it at her (a little too hard) and it's squished between his hand and her crisp, clean jersey. The cone crumbles beneath the pressure, mixing in with the soft ice cream.

There's a moment when he forgets how to breathe, the only thing he can hear is the shocked "Finn!" from Burt.

He looks to his step-dad, then back to the girl, who looks like she's about to burst into tears at any second. Before that, though, she steps forward with determination set on her face and shoves him backward, earning equal shock from the two men. "Rachel Barbra Berry," they look to her sternly, and somehow she seems even smaller under their gaze.

"He ruined my jersey!" she cries out.

Suddenly all eyes are on him. "She pushed my hot dog out of my hand," he argues back, growing more upset with each second, "and then pushed me!" When he finds her glaring toward him, his first response is to stick his tongue out. She dives for him again, only to be pulled back by the shorter of the men with her.

When Finn turns back up to Burt, he finds him staring with an expression that screams "you're in so much trouble." He sighs, dropping his head.

This sucks.

* * *

The second time is much less _messy_.

Well, if you don't count two bruised egos.

He sits at the table between his mom and Kurt, listening to his brother talk about his French class, but it's sort of hard to concentrate. He's not the best at English, so a whole other language is just completely alien to him. Even if he does Spanish himself. It doesn't mean he's any _good_ at it.

But yeah, Kurt's going on (like usual) and Burt and his mom are both listening intently. Resting his chin on his hand, he idly moves the leftover vegetables around his plate, until nature calls and he gratefully excuses himself. He finds it quickly, having been to this restaurant many times before, and then does his business.

It's just as he's stepping out of the bathroom that he walks into someone, _literally_. This happens more than he cares to admit, and it's with practised movements that he reaches out his hand for the small brunette on the floor. "Sorry," he starts sincerely as he helps her up.

That is, until she sweeps her hair back into place and he's struck with realization, the facial features that've been burned in his mind since he was six.

Sure, it's been years now. He's thirteen (_almost_ fourteen) and a lanky pre-teen who's all arms and legs and knobbly knees. And she's... well, she hasn't changed much height wise, he's not going to lie. But her face is narrower, more defined – it's framed between her thick brown hair and neat bangs.

From the look of shock sewn into her features, he knows that she recognizes him too.

"_You_," she growls, tearing her hand away like he's diseased or something.

Finn wishes that he had the wit to produce a really cool comeback that'd have her beet red with humiliation, but he's never really been good with words. He has to settle for his best. "What are you doing here... Giants fan?"

"Really?" she snaps. "Did it ever occur to you that referring to me as a fan of my favorite team is hardly insulting. Although I wouldn't expect anything less from a Neanderthal like _you_."

His brows furrow together. "What?" _What's a Neanderthal?_

She (_Rachel Barbra Berry, _as her dad had called her) looks awfully smug with herself. Finn hates how dumb he feels at the moment. But he doesn't have time to even consider it as she continues, "and I wasn't aware that having dinner with my dads was a crime." She sets a glare on him.

So yeah, he sends an even dirtier one back. "Just whatever. I really don't want to talk to you."

Just as he's brushing past her, she literally growls in response. "You still owe me a jersey, you know."

"Excuse me?"

"You ruined it!" she points to him accusingly, "that was my favorite one."

Finn only stares at her, then shakes his head. He's sure that sad look works on her parents, but not him, "I was doing you a favor by ruining it. The Giants suck." He emphasises his word with a scrunched up nose and furrowed brows.

She stomps her foot (just like when they were kids) and he's actually surprised that she doesn't lung for him at that moment. "Says a jets fan? I don't think anyone can take your opinion seriously when it comes to football."

He promptly ignores that, though his jaw sets and shoulders tense. His eyes move down to where her hand is clutching hold of his sleeve, and when she notices too she instantly snatches it away. "Look, I really don't want to talk to you. The Giants are losers, and since you're a Giants fan, you're a loser too, so..." Without even casting a glance over his shoulder, he knows that she's watching him walk away. What he doesn't see is the way her face falls at his words.

* * *

Finn's drunk. Scratch that, he's _wrecked_. To the point where he is just about able to keep himself on his feet – though not at all steadily – and if he moves too quickly he thinks he just might throw up. But the party is fun and exciting, and he may be drunk, but he's trying to stay cool. There are girls here, super fucking hot girls who keep looking at him with suggestive looks that reach right down to his groin.

The masquerade part of the whole party was Kurt's idea, wanting to put some mystery and class into what is essentially a trashy college party. Not that Finn cares; he's just turned twenty, he's drunk and having a ball. Only problem is that the mask is itching like hell and he really wants to take it off.

Just as he's reaching a hand under his eye to scratch a particular spot, a sweet voice catches him off guard. He swings around, stumbling only a little, to find a petite girl with her chocolate brown hair rolling down her shoulders and back in waves. The emerald green mask over the top half of her face hides most of her features (with the amount he's had to drink, he's sure that he's got beer goggles on anyway) but he can see her eyes twinkling in the flashing lights. Twinkling like there are stars inside them, and despite a sudden insistence that he's seen them before, he smiles.

"Hey," he slurs, adding, "nice mask."

She tugs her plump lip between a set of perfectly white teeth, "thanks. Yours is nice, too."

"My brother picked it out. He said I had to wear one if I wanted to come to the party." His nose scrunches up a little, the girl watching the small movement intently. He notes that her face is pink, and he doesn't know whether it's because it's hot in here or because she's blushing, but he can't help thinking how cute it is.

Ten minutes later, after moving to a quieter part of the halls, they sit snuggled together on a small chair. She's practically sat on his lap, not that he minds. Not _one bit_. She takes a swig of her drink, a small line of pink left on her upper lip. "You've got something..." he breathes, leaning closer and swaying dangerously, "... right there." While he reaches up his thumb to gently brush away the remaining drink, he's surprised when the action is stopped by a small hand. It slowly entwines itself fingers with his. And while he can only stare at this girl with wide eyes and shallow breath, she stands on her tiptoes and closes the gap between them.

Her mouth tastes like fruit and alcohol, a tangy sort of taste lingering on his own lips when they pull apart for merely seconds, before he's going back for more. Each kiss is just as explosive as the next, kindling a fire in his body that he's all too familiar with. Her tongue slips into his mouth forcefully, hands sliding from his shoulder to sit neatly as his waste.

Finn's follow suit, though daring to go lower and cup her A – fucking – class ass in his large hands. She groans into his mouth, a noise which shoots straight to his cock and only increases his urgency. It's with heady arousal that he brings his hand lower, hovering just over the hem of her teasingly short dress. His touch as light as air, he drags his fingertips closer and closer to her panties, encouraged as she mewls in satisfaction.

Her free hands somehow find their way beneath his shirt, grazing and scratching his skin as his fingers dance in patterns along her creamy soft skin. The girl's breath catches when he finally skims them over her panties, the tell-tale patch of wet getting him harder than ever.

He groans then, desperate and horny, and tears his touch away from her. "Wha – why?" she questions breathlessly.

"My room," he pushes out, too struggling to find air. The sexual tension is stifling, almost suffocating. Finn doesn't even hesitate is picking the girl up to leave the party, thankful that his dorm isn't far away.

But as the cold air hits them, he sways dangerously. His head feels completely devoid of everything, and yet still manages to lull back and forth as if weighed down by something incredibly heavy. The girl in his arms giggles at him, manicured finger poking his firm chest. "You're drunk," she grins, eyes closing and head falling against his chest to steady itself.

"Oh yeah," he watches her through hooded eyes. _Crap_, he doesn't even know her name yet. "So are you."

That sets him off laughing, too. The pair's voices float through the quiet air and swirl together in a pretty melody, only for it to stop when they reach his building. He almost drops her on the stairs (_three times_) and then he _does_ drop her on his bed, only to fall on right after her. The giggles return, until he covers his mouth with hers in fast and sloppy kisses. Their bodies rub against each other, creating the delicious friction that they're both yearning for.

His hands clumsily feel her body, tugging her dress down to reveal a set of perky, small breasts. Finn has to pull back for a moment, admiring them with glossy eyes, before he eagerly dives forward. Lips on her hot skin, he sucks and teases her dark nipples, his free hand reaching up to tweak the other in unison. She moans deeply, a guttural noise that has his heart racing faster and faster.

The smell of perfume lingers on her sweet skin, Finn happily kisses every available inch, if it'll keep her loud. That's a fucking turn on. Her soft voice only able to call out in pleasured noises rather than form words.

As his lips migrate upwards, she frantically begins to help him tug off her dress to reveal a pair of skimpy black panties. He watches her – chest heaving, hair completely askew, and her body lay out in front of him like some sort of goddess... how did he get so fucking lucky? He's about to continue to attack of her skin when she pushes him back, still panting. "Your turn," she smiles wickedly, tugging at his shirt so strongly that one of the buttons pops off.

She doesn't even have the chance to look apologetic as she's furiously working on the others. When she manages to pull away the barrier between them, she grins in victory, tugging him down for another deep kiss. But dammit, his mask is so itchy again and he goes to take it off just as she reaches for his slacks. He doesn't get the chance then, eyes movement downwards to watch her movements instead.

Easily distracted, and wanting a relief to all the pressure in his crotch, his hands move southwards. Between the pair of them he's shucking them off in a matter of seconds, the bulge in his boxers painfully obvious for all to see. As she stares down at him, he watches her eyes widen delightfully before she lays back down on the soft sheets of his bed. Her legs spread wide, her hands roaming the inside of her tanned thighs to keep herself worked up.

When she sends a sultry look his way, he quickly takes up the invitation and positions himself between them. "Fuck," he groans as they crotches bump together, electricity shooting through his veins.

"Please," she openly begs, her eyes blown with arousal. He kisses her again, shimmying out of his boxers just as she tugs off her last offending item. Finn's hard dick slides against her folds, the pleasure from that alone causing them both to groan, hands touching everywhere, _anywhere_. He lines himself up then, feeling her erratic heartbeat against his own chest, before he plunges inside of her. Instantly he's surrounded by tight walls. She's warm and wet, muscles clenching around him so tightly that his hands curl into fists around the covers as he tries to maintain control. The wait allows her to adjust to his size, still gasping and marvelling about how well he fills her.

"You like that?" he sucks on her neck, beginning to slowly push in and out of her, "you like me fucking you?"

"Yes! F-faster..." she cries out, eyes scrunching closed. The base of his dick rubs against her throbbing clit, and she lets out breathy pants. "Oh... oh..."

"Finn," he breathes into her ear, not noticing how she shivers at the contact, "It's Finn." She repeats out his name, so fucking sexily that he swears he's about to come right that second, and it takes all of his strength to keep a hold of himself.

Her hips buck at one particularly hard thrust, a gasp escaping her. Finn smirks, enjoying the way her breasts bounce under their movement, the perfect orbs so tantalizing that he has to touch them again. Calloused fingers on her smooth skin prove a perfect recipe, earning more vocal reactions from the already loud girl.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he can't help thinking how familiar that voice is, but then her walls are throbbing around him, tighter and tighter. She screams out his name, fingernails curling into his back as he thrusts. He works her through the high, pushing, groaning, until he follows her into bliss moments later.

Spent, he lays over her. They catch their breath together, lay as a sweaty and hot heap in his bed. As he pulls out of her, the sight of his cum spilling from her pussy is almost enough to get him hard again, but he's tired. _So_ tired. And from the way her eyes are drooping, so is she.

Finn moves in for one more kiss, an way to complete their drunken romp, and rolls onto his side. Head spinning, mouth going dry, he closes his eyes and trying to focus on going to sleep. Not before ripping the stupid mask from his face. Damn itchy thing.

* * *

It's the worst morning of his life, not only waking up from a drunk one night stand, but finding out that said one night stand had been with _Rachel Berry_, someone that he's hated since he was six.

Finn didn't even know that she went to NYU like him, though the proof is right there. With a very angry (and very _naked_, might be add) Rachel shouting to him about how stupid they've been and that she can't believe she's slept with _him_ of all people.

"You weren't complaining last night," he counters, because even in his drunken haze he remembers the noises she'd made, her body's reactions; there's no faking that. But his fact only enrages her further, and her face goes from pink to blood red in one point eight seconds, then she throws his alarm clock his way.

"What is it with you and violence?" Finn demands to know, ducking with only a pillow to hide his modesty.

Rachel breathes deeply to control her emotions, not very well though. From where he cowers slightly on the other side of the room, he can see the tears welling in her deep brown eyes. "Not only did I sleep with _you_," she says it full of disdain, "but that means I slept with a _jets_ fan. I'm mortified!" She throws her hands upwards in despair and then hides her face behind them.

Drama Queen much, he thinks. But then recalls the first time they'd met, and yeah, this reaction is about right.

She hurriedly goes to find her clothes, Finn trying (and failing) to not look at her naked form. But in the daylight he can't deny that she's beautiful, her unique and exotic features cause a pounding in his heart rather than in his head. "Are you kidding me?" she grows as she picks up her dress, "you ripped it!"

"Hey, you helped me take it off last night."

If looks could kill.

Rachel holds it up, inspects the large rip that they'd made in such a hurry to rid her of clothes. "I can't wear this now, what I am supposed to do?"

"Look, you can just borrow something of mine," he says in a defeated tone, not admitting to himself that he actually does want to help her a little. Rachel's silent, arms folded across her chest as she watches him move to his closet. For a moment she looks surprised – pleasantly so – at his act of kindness.

There's mostly plaid shirts in there, all of which would fit her like a dress and give the girl enough modesty to get back to her dorm. But then Finn spies something else, his lips curling upwards in a wicked grin. "Here," he says, throwing the piece of clothing over the bed to her.

She touches it for like, two seconds before realizing that it's a jets jersey. "Ha ha, I am _not_ wearing that."

"Suit yourself princess," he shrugs, "I'm sure the whole of campus would love to see your ass as you walk home."

Glaring back, her eyes challenge him to a staring contest. Not that it'll do much good for her predicament, and Rachel knows that. After it comes to an end, her shoulders slump, lower lip jutting out. She eyes the jersey wearing, as though she'll burst into flames if she wears it – she's a Giants fan. Who knows, maybe she _will_. "I hate you," she says, but she tugs it over her head anyway.

_Fuck_, that's hot. The jersey is huge on her, but her shapely legs are still on show, while her messy hair tumbles down her back. He'll never admit that to her though. No, because she's kind of a bitch _and_ a Giants fan. So like, there's no way he'll ever go there. Well, _again_.

But as she walks out of his room wearing _his_ jersey, he suddenly realizes that they're going to have to see each other again when she gives it back.

* * *

"Just be glad that I didn't burn it, which would be the proper etiquette and what my dads would have undoubtedly done," she pushes it back to him, a sour expression on her face.

"Well thanks, I guess." He hangs it over his arm, expecting her to walk away. But she doesn't. They both continue to stand there, unsaid words hanging in the air. Then nothing. Finn sighs, not knowing what he'd expected really, and concludes with, "see you around then."

He's been walking for a barely a minute when she's running up to him and calling his name. Pulling the brakes on, he turns to a frantic Rachel, his heart suddenly leaping in all these crazy ways that he'd never before associated with _this_ girl. "Yeah?" he asks.

"You... you haven't told anyone about this, have you?" she inquires quietly, hands wringing together.

Finn feels his smile drop. "No, I – not a soul." He shrugs, "I figured you didn't want it getting around. Right?"

She nods quickly, the relief evident in her face. Finn frowns even more deeply. Not even bothering to say anything this time, he begins to move away from her once more. He only just manages to hear her quiet, "thank you."

* * *

It's weird, how up until that night he hadn't noticed her anywhere on campus, despite being there for months already. And now, he sees her _everywhere_. Or maybe he's just noticing her more. But whatever the reason is, he just can't forget all about her like he'd intended to. You know, 'cause he'll manage it for a few hours and then see her in the library, or in the hallway. Sometimes she'll be at other parties, too. Still, not matter how drunk either gets he's sure that they're going to avoid a situation like last time.

He has to pretend that she doesn't blush when she sees him (she _does_) and that he doesn't start going out of his way to places that he knows she'll be in (sure, he's late for class sometimes, but it's worth it). But the hardest thing to pretend is that he doesn't know what all this means.

Because okay, he might have his dumb moments, but he isn't _stupid_. He knows what it feels like when he's got a crush; just what Finn doesn't understand right now is how he could possibly be experiencing those feelings for Rachel _freakin_' Berry, the girl who he threw an ice cream at during his first football game.

Not only that, but a girl that he's hated ever since. And who has happily returned the feelings.

He has to remind himself that he's supposed to hate her as he thinks about their night together, all those kisses shared between the pair. Not only that, but the moment they'd joined their bodies as one. And okay, they were drunk, but sex is still _sex_. It still means something.

It's a Friday night, and Finn has to rid those thoughts as he readies himself to go to the movies with his friends. For a couple of hours, he can just lose himself in the plot and not focus on anything at all.

Or so he thinks.

The second he spies his friends by the coffee shop where they're meeting, he can feel that something is different. Then he spies _her_ standing between Blaine and Tina, and he knows that the night isn't going to be the stress relief he's needed.

She sends him the same look, eyes widening in abject horror as she seems to be going through the same motions. Their friends don't realize what's wrong; neither mention anything. And off they go. He's trying not to look at her, really, but the more he tries not to, the more he inevitably does, until he's not the only one noticing his fascination with the girl.

"Hot right?" Puck grins wickedly beside him, "she's from one of Tina's classes. If we sit together at the theater, she's going to get a whole lot of puckasauras to love."

His heart goes wild at that thought, jealousy growing within him, "dude. You don't even know her."

"Oh, and you do?" he wiggles his brows, "besides, we'll get to know each other a _lot_ better if she takes to my moves."

Needless to say, Finn quickly inserts himself in the seat before Puck even has the chance, earning him the dirtiest look from Rachel. But it's okay, because at least Puck isn't sat next to her. That's all that matters.

Between the two of them, he's sort of scrunched up in his seat. At one point he'd tried to place his hand on the arm rest, only to find Rachel's there in place. And when their legs had accidentally grazed, he'd had to move them, too. Puck's no better, hogging as much space as he can possibly get from Finn because Kurt and Blaine think that movie theater means make out theater.

"Guys, cut it out," he grumbles when he catches them doing it for the sixth time. "We're trying to watch the movie."

Turning back in his seat (and failing miserably at adjusting himself into a comfortable position) he sighs. Out of the corner of his eye, he finds Rachel peeking at him, her look grateful for his interruption of the pair. But as he turns to look back at her, she snaps her head back so quickly that he doesn't even have time to blink.

After the awkward affair of the movie, he trails behind the rest of the group, listening idly to their conversations. Tina and Rachel have their arms linked, walking just a few feet ahead of him; he can't help the wry smile when he hears Tina announce. "Oh my god, don't tell Finn you're a Giants fan – he'll flip!"

Rachel only laughs along, keeping their secret safe, and she's still laughing softly as she turns to look back at him, eyes twinkling prettily. He curses under his breath. Finn knows that he shouldn't be thinking about that. He hates her, she hates him. End of.

_Callbacks_ is lively as usual, the group finding a table near the stage that just about big enough for them all. He's not next to Rachel this time, but he doesn't dwell on that as he offers to go and get their drinks with Puck. He does feel the prickle of the small hair on his neck pointing upwards as though someone's watching him though.

* * *

The heat burns into his skin as he pushes past the few dancing people to the back door. As he steps outside, he's surprised to find that the little space outside is already occupied, by none other than Rachel. "Oh sorry, I can - "

"No... sit," she starts hesitantly.

His fingers gently uncurl from around the door, letting it shut ever so softly. The light from the inside cut off, they instead have the lights of the City surrounding them. Finn lowers himself a seat away from her, letting the cold air sweep around him and relieve the warmth from his body. "Ah," he sighs contently.

"It's kind of weird that we keep bumping into each other, hmm?" Rachel asks after a beat.

He pops one of his eyes open, observing her slowly as she does the same. She doesn't seem angry at him right now (like usual). Actually, she appears more curious than pissed. He starts to wonder what gives.

"It's a small world."

"I guess so," Rachel shrugs, "it's just strange. What is this now, the fourth time? And we're not even actively seeking each other out..."

"Well, it's the fourth time we've spoken," he points out, "I see you around campus a lot."

She blushes again.

"What're you studying anyway?" It's nothing more than pure curiosity, but it has Rachel arching her eyebrow. "What? I can't ask?"

She huffs, "fine, I'm studying musical theater." He nods. That's pretty cool. "What about you?"

"Oh I'm..." He hesitates then, eyes boring into hers, "I'm here on a football scholarship." Finn isn't sure what he expects her reaction to be – perhaps the type of rude comments he's used to when football's involved, but she lets out a stark laugh, head bowing for a moment as she stares down.

"No kidding, huh?"

"Nope," he grins, "and I'm not too bad. I actually, you know, playing for the Jets is my dream so..."

Rachel gives a wry smile, now chuckling softly. He likes that. "I should've known." Her words are accompanied by an eye roll.

"What? That one day I'd be playing for the best team in the world?"

Her scoff is bigger than ever, and her head shakes vehemently. Usually this is the point where she gets annoyed, defensive, but the playful banter is new to him; new but not unwelcome. "You're deluded." She slowly stands, straightening out her skirt, "but if you keep practising and keep those hopes of playing in the NFL alive, one day the _real_ New York team just might be interested."

"I'd turn them down," he grumbles, "I'm not a traitor."

She shake her head softly at his words, reaching for the door. For a moment, she only stares at it, then turns on her heels. "I still hate you, you know," she says, as though having to remind herself.

Finn nods, "right." He gives a mock salute, to which she only smiles for again.

* * *

He hears her before he actually sees her, shouting and screaming at a whole list of names, most of which he recognizes to be Giants players. As he rounds the corner, he finds her in the student lounge amongst some of his friends, though clearly she's scared some off with her terrifying transformation into football nut.

"Are you kidding me? That was not a foul!" she glares at the TV as though it's wronged her.

"Someone doesn't sound happy," he smirks as he sits himself on the couch (the others have evacuated to the surrounding chairs, no doubt where it's safer.)

"Shut up, Finn."

His eyes catch a glimpse of the score. "Uh oh, are the Patriots beating your precious little team?"

"Finn, don't anger her," Kurt hisses from where he's sat at the table, working on a lengthy assignment. Rachel's face only becomes tenser, her tiny little hands balled into fists. Finn chuckles. But his attention is dragged away as the Giants manage to score a touchdown, sending her into a frenzy. She jumps up so quickly that he's sure he gets whiplash, and she bounds around the room cheering loudly.

Then she turns to Finn, eyes shining with victory. "Hah! In your face!" She sticks her tongue out playfully, still obnoxiously celebrating.

"Hey, dude – your team is still losing." He points out.

Rachel freezes, eyes returning to the tv. "We still scored," she says primly, as though she hadn't just freaked out over one touchdown. Then she glares his way, "and don't call me _dude_."

They pretty much go back and forth with this until the end of the game, only increasing in frustration. He knows how to wind her up, and a part of him sort of likes it when she gets all hot headed and flustered. But he's wound her so tightly that she's about to snap. Anyone with sense has left the room long ago. When it comes to Rachel, he doesn't think he has any sense to be quite honest.

"And you know what else sucks about the Giants? The fact that Johnson is supposed to be one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL, but he doesn't know how to lead a team. I'm actually surprised he knows how to dress himself in the morning - "

"Finn, please stop trying to offend my team when you support the Jets. Have you actually seen them play? They've been atrocious this season and you know it – in fact they've had mediocre for the last few years." She then gives a small smirk, "and may I remind you that they've only won the Super Bowl once – almost _forty_ years ago."

He puts on a sulking face, refusing to look at her.

"The Jets suck," she continues, "and you know it."

"They do not suck – I remember watching that winning game with my whole family. My grandad taped it, and every year we watch it again... one of these days they'll win again, you know. And you'll be eating your own words."

"I don't count on it. Not if you keep bringing guys like Tim Tebow in," she scoffs, "now _he_ was bad. I was embarrassed for you guys with that whole fiasco." Finn doesn't reply to that, only further solidifying her point. He crosses his arms haughtily across his chest while she laughs cutely at his reaction.

"You think you know so much about football. You're here on some la di da music course, not a football scholarship."

Rachel bristles. "Excuse me? My education is just as meaningful as yours, and the differences in interest are insignificant." She moves closer, not even realizing that she's doing it, "and it doesn't make me any less knowledgeable about other subjects. I've been a Giants fan since I knew what football was."

"Poor you," he remarks, feigning disinterest.

"Oh," she groans irritably at him, "you are so _frustrating_."

"Gotta help you keep your head out of the clouds, Rach. I know how you Giants fans get."

She smacks his chest with the back of her hand, not really intending to hurt him; just enough to let her frustrations out. But he catches hold of her wrist, tiny compared to his large hands. Something changes in her then, a shaky breath following. As he looks at her, it's just like being at that party all over again, and all he can think about it kissing her.

So he does. Screw the consequences.

The kiss is softer than before, more longing sewn into its roots. But just like before, she doesn't pull back; if anything her body relaxes further under his touch, leaving her boneless in his arms. She moulds to him as her lips push back against his, her mouth opening ever so slightly. He can't hear the TV anymore, or anything else for that matter, nothing but the steady _thump thump_ of his heart as he loses himself in the kiss.

Her fingers rise to his chin, thumb gently swiping across his cheek as she holds him in place, her lips working some sort of magic on him. Finn feels drunk all over again, like there's a cloud of happiness floating over him.

But then it's all taken away when Rachel tugs back, conflict in the contours of her face. Her brows deepens, eyes searching for answers that he's scared he doesn't have, and then she jerks back. "No... we – we shouldn't be doing this," she states, confused. And yeah, he is too. But that doesn't mean that this – whatever it is – has to stop... right?

"Rachel," he tries, only for it to fall on deaf ears, "Rach."

She jumps to her feet, shaking her head lightly. A few wisps of her hair come loose, and Finn finds himself wanting to brush them back. "You're Finn Hudson," she states. "You're the boy who made me cry at a fooball game when I was six – you ruined my favorite jersey, you... you -"

Rachel doesn't even let herself finish, leaving the room in a flash of those glossy brown eyes and a pained expression. He throws his head back, eyes screwed shut.

* * *

Rachel gets a boyfriend.

It's the last thing he's expecting to see, watching her walk down the hall with some greasy haired punk who keeps trying to subtly touch her ass. _Everyone can see what you're doing, dickward_, he thinks in irritation when it continues to happen and the oh so happy couple are blissfully unaware of everything around them.

He feels a scowl crawl slowly onto his face as Rachel leans into this guy's chest, giggling at something that he'd said. Finn continues to glare, hating the feeling of jealousy swirling around inside him. He shouldn't be jealous, not about someone that _Rachel_ of all people is dating.

Finn's shoulders sink as he realizes that he's got to go in the same direction as them, so he can't really escape all their PDA. Great, just great. But as he's walking behind them, huffing and puffing his complaints, he notices her turning around. Her expression is almost daring, like she's trying to prove a point. Maybe she is. It taunts him in a way that stirs up all that jealousy once more, and she knows it too, if her smirk is anything to go by.

He hates Rachel Berry (sort of, and not really.)

* * *

He hastily moves to swipe the sweat from his forehead, panting heavily as he follows the rest of the players off the field. Before he heads to the changing rooms, though, he spies Kurt lingering on the bleachers. Smiling, he raises his tired arm in a small wave. "Good game," he says as Finn reaches him. Finn only smiles, knowing that Kurt would've spent most of the game talking to Blaine about the "horrible uniforms". That's how it always goes.

"Thanks," he nods, "that linebacker was a piece of work though." He cringes as he thinks of the tackles he'd seen some of his fellow players take, grateful that he wasn't on the receiving end. You know, he's a pretty big guy, but that guy could've easily floored him.

"You can say that again," Kurt says.

Blaine steps forward, reaching up to pat him on the back, "you played great though, Finn." He grins, "as usual." A small smile in response, Finn blushes slightly at the praise. "Even Rachel said so, and you know how she is about football." He continues, laughing over Rachel's antics.

Upon hearing her name, Finn's heart jumps. His eyes widen in interest, staring toward his friend intently. There's only one Rachel that he knows, but at the same time he doesn't _really_ know that much about her, other than the fact that she's a theater major, she's a Giants fan and she's like, super stubborn too. He manages to hide his reaction well enough. Besides, there's no reason for them to suspect anything – he's never openly showed interest in her and no one knows about that time when they'd hooked up.

What's more, she has _Jesse_ now. And Finn's kept it well hidden that he want to squish his stupid head between his hands.

"Rachel said that?" His voice is nothing less than shocked.

Kurt and Blaine put it to the fact that it's hardly private knowledge of Rachel's know it all attitude about football. Finn knows that all too well.

"She seemed pretty impressed actually," Kurt comments, "I think it's the first time she's seen you play."

He can't help the way he perks up, and for a few moments he wonders whether Kurt or Blaine notice. If they do, nothing is said. Only some remaining congratulations before he heads off for a shower that he desperately needs. He still feels buzzed after the game, adrenaline coursing through his veins, even more so after hearing that development about Rachel.

Finn does his best not to think about it, but as usual he does. It brings the hint of a smile to his lips, one that has some of his fellow players giving him some serious side eye.

The sky is darkening by the time he makes it out of the locker room, trudging toward his building 'cause he knows he's got an assignment to work on, one that he's kind of done nothing on so far. His already slow walks begins to deteriorate as he spies her though, leaning against a tree as she hurriedly texts on her phone. She's wearing the _NYU Violets_ shirt (he can't help grinning at that) and it's totally too big for her, but in a way that's kind of cute.

He's walking toward her before he even thinks about it, swinging his backpack over his shoulder just as he stands a few feet away. The crunch of the grass alerts her to his arrival, lowering her phone. "What do you want?" she asks simply, voice only bordering on annoyed this time. Finn takes it as a good sign.

That still doesn't mean that he has nothing to say, "so this new guy of yours, should I read into it that you started dating him like, the day after we kissed?"

She stands erect abruptly, eyes narrowing. "What are you suggesting, Finn?"

"I dunno," he shrugs, but he can't keep in his thoughts, "it's just awfully convenient, isn't it?"

"_Convenient_?"

"Yeah, don't you think so?"

He notices the realization dawn on her features. "Do you think I'm trying to make you _jealous_?"

"Well – _yeah_."

She scoffs, much like the scoffs that he's used to. Only, there's slightly more annoyance in this one. "I'll have you know that Jesse and I share a lot of interest in musical theatre and he's a very well respected alumni of the university. He's a senior." The last part is spoken smugly, her head giving a definite little nod

"Fine, fine," he gives in, but only for now. He has his suspicions, and she can deny them all she wants.

She doesn't reply, her dark eyes still observing him. He wonders if she knows what to say in response to that, if all her witty comebacks are gone. Or maybe there's just no need for them anymore. Gaze wandering down to her shirt again, he gives her a soft half smile, "so you watched the game?" He's eager to talk to her once more, only to steer the conversation in another direction.

"I did," she replies primly, but he notes how she quickly tugs her lower lip between her teeth.

"What did you think?"

"Well, it was good. You guys were on point and - "

"No," he corrects her, "not... not everyone else. I meant – _me_."

Her lips purse tightly together, eyebrow pointing upwards. She doesn't say anything else, because she doesn't have too. He's too made it all too easy for her, hasn't he? And he half expects her to tease him. You know, she teases him enough about football, and she's got a boyfriend, so any crushes are sort of obsolete.

But she doesn't. She's almost... shy about the whole think, her head bowing. Finn, in turn, is perplexed, and remains speechless until Rachel fills in the quiet of the conversation. "You weren't too bad," she says, a grin that gives away what she really means.

He grins back, super happy. From Rachel, that's a decent compliment.

Lulled into such a sense of security, he's vulnerable for the next few words to fly out of his mouth, whether he wants to speak or not. "About that kiss, Rachel..."

She suddenly frowns. "No, don't – don't worry about it Finn." She sighs, "you know, I'm with... with Jesse now, so it doesn't matter, does it?" The words are said with little conviction, an easy excuse, and he doesn't believe her one bit.

But he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he says, "Yeah, it doesn't matter." He can't bring himself to look into his eyes for a few moments, but if he did he'd see the upset swimming in the deep mahogany color. "Right, whatever."

* * *

Things go back to the way they were before they were sort of friends, only instead of just feeling a sense of familiarity as he sees her around campus, now sightings of her are filled with a melancholy that he can't shake off.

_Especially_ when Jesse is involved.

He hates that guy gets him so riled up and annoyed, but he does. Every time he sees that smug little face of his.

Summer break come and goes, and he's forced to be nice as Jesse tags along to their group hangouts. Thankfully there's a mutual dislike for the guy; everyone's pretty much putting up with him for Rachel's sake, but Finn sometimes wonders how much more he can take of that arrogant smile of his.

* * *

"He's a douche," he tries to lift her mood as she sits in the student lounge, in the same sweat pants and tank top she'd worn yesterday. Finn sighs, as does Kurt and her other friends, when their support goes in one ear and straight out the other. Okay, his words aren't exactly support – more the _truth_.

Jesse _is_ a douche.

And, you know, pretty damn stupid if he thinks that he can cheat on Rachel and get away with it. His heart rips in two as he sees her equally broken expression, the bags under her eyes from where she hadn't slept, the constant heaviness of tears in her voice.

"I just... can't believe he lied to me," she says, defeated. Without even realizing it, he reaches out his hand toward Rachel, clasping it around her smaller one. She blinks, following the length of his arm to see exactly who it belongs to, and he suspects that she'll be annoyed when she realizes it's him. But she isn't. She – she smiles at him, a grateful little smile that warms his heart in a way that he's never felt before.

Finn shouldn't really be here, amongst her close friends who're there in her time of need, but when he'd heard he couldn't tear himself away if he tried. Like, they don't talk a lot – they do more than they used to, but nothing like she does with these guys. And okay, he sees her a lot because of Kurt, but that doesn't mean they're prancing around being best friends.

Sometimes he tries to convince himself that he once hated her – well, if only for all of thirty minutes of that drama filled football game – but it's getting harder to do that these days. Hell, it's even hard to lie to himself and say that he doesn't like her. 'Cause he does. She's all kinds of crazy, though somehow he finds that endearing rather than scary.

"You deserve better than him," Finn tells her softly, surely. She does deserve better than that no good lying piece of crap. Rachel deserves the best.

When his eyes move away from Rachel – reluctantly – he finds the others staring at him as though he's just gained two heads. "What? She does. And Jesse can go suck a hot one." There's some definite agreement to that, and his gentleness toward Rachel is easily attributed to him trying to better her mood.

Tina leaves first, then Mercedes. Kurt and Blaine have dinner at Blaine's parents, so Rachel ends up with just him. For a few moments, he wonders whether she wants him to leave too. But she makes no effort to tell him that, her eyes only falling on him curiously.

He shuffles that bit closer to her.

"Thanks for staying with me," she starts, confirming his place so that he doesn't have to question, "I just- I don't really want to be alone right now."

"No, I get it – when Quinn broke up with me in our first year, I stayed in bed for like, a week. Break ups are hard."

She sighs, "I wish I would've realized sooner. I..." Rachel bites her lip, debating whether to hold back the next piece of information. Her eyes take a glimpse his way, then to the hem of her shirt, "... I wasn't that invested in the relationship, but just finding out that he's cheating? That's what hurts the most."

"I'm sorry." He says, because he doesn't know what else he can say.

"What're you sorry for? You're not the one who cheated on me."

"I know, but I -"

"In fact... you're a lot nicer to me than most of the guys I know – in spite of how we met the first couple of times, and after we kissed... I just ran to Jesse because then I didn't have to deal with all the confusion. You must hate me."

He feels his cheeks burn, a look of mortification as he's reminded of those meetings. "I never really hated you, Rach," he clarifies, "I just really, really liked to piss you off."

She scoffs. "Charming, Finn." But beneath her voice is the hint of amusement. He'd be willing to bet that she'd give the same answer, too. At that point, they'd been so eager to irk to other that it'd almost felt like a contest.

"You made it so easy," he chuckles, a spot of pride showing when he earns a real smile from her. "Especially when it came to football."

Rachel's head shoots his way. "Hey, you get just as heated about it as I do -"

"Which is why you tease me about it, right?"

Her blush gives it away. "I guess," she starts primly, "it's nice to have someone to talk to it about, other than my dads. None of my friends care, and okay, you may be a fan of the worst team in the world, but you're still a football fan and it's fun talking to you... and teasing you." The last part is mumbled behind a smile.

Finn chuckles, "it is kind of fun, isn't it?"

"Most people find it annoying when I'm like that," she sighs.

The mood drops again, "Rach."

"What? It's true."

He gives her a look, eyes unable to tear away from hers – which are undeniably sad. "I don't," he insists. "I actually think it's pretty cool. It's like when you talk about Broadway and stuff – I can tell how happy it makes you and I like that, a lot."

She smiles again, brightly toward him. "Thank you, Finn."

He nods, before adding. "And for the record, if Jesse got annoyed at you for talking about something that you loved, then it makes him more than a douche. It makes him like, a _super_ douche."

Rachel erupts into giggles at that, and that's when he knows that he's done good.

* * *

"Finn, please tell me there's a good reason as to why you assaulted Jesse St James on school property!" Kurt seethes as he stomps around his bedroom. Finn only sits there with his icebag over where Jesse had managed to get in a punch himself.

"He deserved it."

Kurt just stares at him, "you could've got kicked out – what possibly possessed you to do it?"

"Look, he screwed over Rachel and then started bragging around school how she begged him to take her back. Like Rachel would ever do that." Anger spews into his words, and he happily relives the moment when his fist connected with Jesse's jaw. "I was like, protecting her honor and all."

"Rachel's a big girl, Finn – she can do that all by herself. And you don't need to jeopardize your education for it!"

He groans in frustration, rolling his eyes. "Just go away, Kurt."

"If I go away, then who's going to talk some sense into you?" he folds his arms across his chest, tapping his foot with conviction.

"Go away." He repeats, though this time there's boredom to his tone. The last thing he needs is a lecture from Kurt, not when he's already received an almost identical one from Rachel.

You know, for such a small person she sure can get angry. But like he thought he was doing a good thing, making Jesse pay for how he treated Rachel. He never expected Rachel to get super pissed and angry, and start going on and on about about abhorring violence, or whatever that means. Then she'd stormed out, slamming the door so hard he's sure the entire building shook with the force.

Just when things were finally going _right_ with her again.

* * *

Kurt flutters about the room, adding finishing touches to everything and anything, while Finn stands there and tries to stay out of the way. When Kurt's on a mission, he's kind of scary. He helps to hang up the higher decorations, the ones that he can reach with ease.

"I can't believe Mom and Burt have been married for sixteen years now," he says with a soft smile as he lowers himself to the couch. He'd been so young when the two had met, and he hadn't really understood the crafts of their new and budding romance. But looking back on it, he feels overwhelming happiness that his mom found someone like Burt to be with. Especially since he's a pretty cool guy; not to mention all the awkward conversations that Finn's been able to avoid with his mom in his teenage years.

"I know," Kurt gives a wistful sigh, complete with a serene smile. "It's all gone by so quickly."

He nods to that. With his graduation looming, he has to ask himself where all the time's gone.

"Oh!" His brother suddenly jumps a little as he remembers something, "I invited a few people from my classes. I know that it isn't supposed to be some huge party, but dad and Carole deserve a big celebration."

"Kurt..." he frowns; he doesn't like where this is going

"I only invited people who've met them before – no one else. Blaine, obviously, Artie, Tina. Rachel said she can come as well I think."

Finn suddenly flusters, "and when exactly has Rachel met them?" The very idea that Rachel's met his mom has his cheeks blushing, his heart racing like it's running in the Olympics. He hasn't even spoken to her since the whole Jesse incident.

Sending him a strange look, Kurt speaks suspiciously. "She's been over at the house a few times, and she came to that BBQ they had while you were on Spring break. Honestly Finn..." He narrows his eyes slightly, "I don't understand what the big deal is."

Shrinking under his gaze, he does his best to keep composed and try not to think that Rachel will be there. Rachel that he hasn't spoken to in week, Rachel that is pissed at him because he went all brave heart on her dumb, cheating ex boyfriend.

"There is no big deal," he shrugs, a little too casually for Kurt's liking as he scrutinizes Finn's every movement.

"Okay. Whatever." He starts to head back into the kitchen, before his head pops around the doorway one more time. "Oh, and if you two can refrain from getting into a fight about football, that would be appreciated."

"Yes, sir." He gives a mock salute.

* * *

"You can't be serious!" Rachel exclaims, her face nothing but pure shock. Finn snickers into his hand upon seeing her so affronted, "I can't believe you think that the Jets have had a better season so far." He doesn't exactly remember how the subject of football had arisen, but he remembers seeing Rachel's little face perk up, determination set on her expression. At least it's not _him_ that's arguing with her.

Burt calmly leans back in his recliner, "that Smith kid sure was on point for a rookie, you can't deny that."

"He was just so so," she claims.

"This coming from someone who's quarterback was all over the place last season," he throws back at her, to which she tenses, knowing what's coming. "I mean, you had two games where you didn't score anything – some team, huh?"

Finn decides not to interject (since Burt can hold his own and not get as hot headed as he does against Rachel) and instead moves outside where he finds his mom. She smiles his way, letting him sweep her into a tight hug. "You having fun?" he asks her sincerely.

"It's a lovely party," she smiles happily, "I can't thank you boys enough."

"Nah, you deserve it."

She watches him behind her hazel eyes, her age showing through the laugh lines around the corners. "I know that today is about Burt and I, but I have to remind you how proud of I am you." She gently cups his chin, "you're the best son anyone could ever ask for." He ducks his head, bashfully. But he can't help smiling brightly toward his mom, pulling her in for another embrace.

They stay like that for a few more minutes before Burt steps up to them, amusement glistening in his eyes. "That brunette is a little firecracker," he chuckles.

"She sure is," Finn hears himself saying. He doesn't realize how fond his tone is until he earns two questioning looks from his mom and Burt. "Um, do any of you guys want a drink?"

"Ooh, could you please get me some of that cocktail that Blaine made? It's delicious."

"Sure thing."

The relief is instant as he crosses the threshold back into the house, his cheeks losing their bright pink. He finds the cocktail in the kitchen, slowly refilling the glass when a tiny hand comes to rest upon his arm. It's a barely there touch. Still, that's enough to have his pulse shooting upwards. "Hey Finn." She smiles, almost tentatively – it's a far reach from her normally bold greetings. It's nice.

He looks to her, trying to be annoyed. Because their last meeting was hardly anything to be desired (he can still hear her yelling at him). "Hi." His eyes scan over the soft pink dress that she's wearing, and he smiles.

"I'm sorry about – well, you know." She returns his gaze with just as much intensity, before asking, "so... are we good?"

Finn knows exactly what she's talking about, it's hanging over the pair of them like a heavy raincloud. He shrugs, "I guess so."

"I don't... you don't sound like you mean that?"

"Well, what do you want me to say Rach? A couple weeks ago you were super angry at me for giving Jesse what he deserves, we haven't even spoken since then and now you're suddenly okay. I don't know what to think." She opens her mouth to speak, but no words follow, so he finds himself continuing. "Just, why do you have to make everything really confusing?"

"What exactly am I making confusing?" she asks, quirking her brow. Through her confident question, he can hear a falter in her voice. The way her eyes dart downwards are also an indication of something lurking below the surface, something that he has a sneaking suspicion might be related to what he's about to say.

"You... you make it hard and confusing to like you. You know, not just friend like, but _more_ than that."

Her gaze is nothing less than perplexed, clearly trying to reign in the sudden mass of emotions. "_Finn._"

He groans, then glances around. Not at all comfortable with having this conversation in the kitchen, where anyone could walk in, he starts to lead her upstairs. His bedroom is clean, thankfully, and she primly sits on the bed. Finn can only stare at her dumbly for a few seconds, all pretty in pink and not at all belonging in his room. He catches her eying the walls of Jets memorabilia; he guesses it's just about as she expected.

She opens her mouth to speak, but for once she finds herself without words. That's good, because he's the opposite, brimming with things to say. This has been a long time coming, he thinks.

"I like you, okay? And that's not easy to admit, because things are sort of back and forth with us, and sometimes confusing. Like, one minute we're friends and then the next we're arguing about something – but that doesn't make me like you any less. I don't know, I think it actually makes it a little bit more." He feels breathless as the words tumble from his lips, getting all caught and tangled together. "It's just... how am I not supposed to like you – you're smart and gorgeous, and you always have this like, twinkle in your eyes. You – you stand up for what you believe in, whether it be an animal rights issue, or just which football team is better." Rachel gives a coy smile then, chuckling at his words.

The twinkle that he's just mentioned is ever present. Her face practically glows with happiness, and she rises to her feet, in mere seconds closing the gap between their bodies. Arms wrapping themselves tightly around him, her kiss is just as forceful. And just like he remembers. The familiarity of it has him melting into her embrace, losing himself in the feel of her lips.

She's wearing that cherry lip balm that she always does, tasting so sweet that he's sure he's going to get a cavity. But she tugs away, and Finn is terrified that it's just going to be like all the other times, that she's going to say it was a mistake. She doesn't.

Rachel slowly smacks her lips together, her eyes never leaving his. "I like you, too," she says. Her hand slides up and gently rests just below his ear. "I never wanted to admit it, because we never exactly got of to the best start and I – I was too stubborn to admit that I do... of course I like you Finn."

Holding his face ever so gently with her hands, she kisses him again.

"After we kissed that time, I totally panicked. And then Jesse had been bugging me to go out with him, so I just said yes. Because we make sense, you know? But _us_ – we don't make sense, Finn." Disappointment seeps into his expression, "I don't care though, because I _like_ you and I've liked you for a long time, even when I told myself that I didn't."

His arms fit neatly on her thin waist, Finn taking his time to enjoy this moment. His lips brush against hers, the brief touches setting his nerves on fire. "Really?" he asks.

She nods. "Really." That chuckle returns, "even if you are a Jets fan."

He just kisses her quiet, somehow the pair of them ending up on his bed not long later, their lips still locked in slow, sensual movements. Finn is no stranger to her body, but he somehow ends up marveling of the feel of Rachel beneath him all over again. "Wait," he stops her, totally unwillingly. All he wants to do is revel in the amazing feel of the kisses, but he needs to be sure first. "What – does this mean that...?"

"I think this has been a long time coming," she says a little sheepishly. "If we hadn't denied it for so long."

"_Way_ too long," he agrees. "All because of that dumb thing that we did when we were kids."

She sighs, "I'm sorry about that, you know. I didn't mean to knock your hotdog out of your hand – I was just lost in the game."

"And I did feel really bad about ruining your jersey," he counters, kissing her forehead.

Smiling against his cheek, she closes her eyes in contentment. He stares into her deep brown eyes, noticing the golden specs surrounding her pupil. "All because you were jealous that I support a better team."

"None of that," he lightly taps her nose, "I've been banned from talking about sports with you by Kurt."

"_Banned_?"

"You do go a little overboard."

She gasps, "there is nothing wrong with being passionate about something."

"Well, Kurt didn't want us arguing in front of everyone, I guess. God knows how many times he's had to witness it." Rachel goes slightly red in the face as she remembers, her hand covering her mouth and blocking the sweet laughs that follow. "Speaking of Kurt... maybe we should get back to the party before he realizes we've disappeared."

"Yeah, 'course. We don't want him thinking we made out in here or something," she jokes, eyes glistening.

But that causes Finn to stop, thoughtful once more. "I want people to know," he says, not missing a beat, "if we're together, I don't wanna hide it Rach."

She smiles, leaning in for another kiss. "Me either. Loud and proud, as my daddy always says to me."

It's surreal, leaving his bedroom with Rachel's hand clasped tightly in his, and not to have her run out after their kiss. You know, it's... it's what he's wanted a long time, even longer than he could actually admit to himself. And now having the real thing just feels right in so many ways.

* * *

Their relationship comes as a shock to some, and an inevitability to others. Like, Tina only rolls her eyes and says "finally!" while Kurt pulls him aside to dish out absolutely everything because his brother is being serious and getting a girlfriend. Rachel only laughs as that happens.

It's hard sometimes, because they're so different. He's totally laid back and she's kind of a control freak, she always wants to be prepared about everything while he just goes with the flow. And, you know, he's a Jets fan and she's a Giants fan.

They just have to make that work.

The avoid the subject of football really, 'cause it gets them both super riled up and passionate, but hey, he thinks it's pretty hot. No one else does though. But yeah, they don't watch many football games together and neither really bring up their team (unless it's some senseless teasing every once in a while, that's totally allowed) but of course with Finn's scholarship, it's still a pretty big topic.

With it being the senior year, this is the big one – the one where he could possibly be drafted to the NFL. And really, that's been his dream since he'd watched his first football game with all his family around him, all engrossed in the sport. He remembers being that wide eyed four year old with dreams of being on that winning team.

He may be twenty one now, and a little less wide eyed, but those dreams have only gotten bigger.

"How cool would it be?" he asks out loud as he lies on his bed, Rachel sitting on his desk doing some homework.

"Would what be?" She slowly turns over the page.

Finn rolls onto his side and smiles at her, "to play in the NFL. To be part of my favorite team – my family would be so proud."

"I'm sure they would," she grins, "it'd be a pretty big accomplishment."

"And what about you? Would you be proud?" He poses the question curiously.

"You do know that if you played for the Jets, I'd have to break up with you," she tries to speak seriously, but a smile splits on her face and her tone is filled with laughter. "But I'd still be proud."

He shakes his head lightly with a chuckle. "Good to know."

"The Jets is my dream though," he continues, "like you've known your whole life that Broadway is your destiny, this is... I just feel it – I know it's what's right for me."

As the tone of the conversation switches, she rises from her seat at his desk and drops onto the bed beside him. In an instant his arms make their way around her waist, quickly pulling her to his side. This is where he finds she fits snugly and comfortably, all soft sighs and sweet smiles. "And you'll do it," she tells him, sweeping her fingers through his hair, "if you keep working hard and believe in yourself."

He smiles gratefully toward her, stealing a couple of soft kisses. Finn loves the way she shyly bites her lip after kissing him, and brings her tighter to his side.

* * *

Finn's filled with a mixture of dread and cautious hope for the new few weeks ahead of him. Not only are the last few months of college creeping up on him, but the NFL draft is looming closer every day. And with each day, the burning desire to be chosen only grows.

Even with impending exams and studying, he still manages to find his mind wandering to those three days. Wondering, anticipating. Just dreaming of what it'll feel like if he gets picked. An absent smile grows on his lips.

"You're doing it again."

He blinks, focusing back on Rachel as she takes a sip of her drink. It's a rare night off for the pair, one where they've found themselves at one of Finn's favorite rock 'n' roll bars – it's a little cheesy on occasion, but they both love the karaoke and kick ass every time they go. Today, however, is quieter.

"Doing what?" he asks, though he can't hide his sheepish smile.

Rachel's smile grows, an amused glint behind her mahogany eyes. "Thinking about what it'd be like to play in the NFL, to play for the Jets like you've dreamt of since you were just a little boy – you know, the usual."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"You should be focusing on finals," she points her fork at him accusingly. "they're important."

With a sigh, he shrugs, "I know they are. It just... my mind is all over the place at the minute. There's so much going on... and like, don't I deserve to escape the stress for, I don't know, five minutes?" His expression borders on a pout, though there are hints of frustration. He's not exactly the sharpest mind out there, and the countless things being crammed into his head is just _hard. _As soon as one new thing goes in, something old is mercilessly shoved out.

Reaching forward, Rachel gently takes hold of his hand, her soft thumb brushing over his knuckles. The soft movement is almost ticklish, but still feels super awesome on his skin. He manages to return a smile as some of the stress slips away. "I can help you study if you like," she offers. Rachel's already ahead on her schedule, everyone knows that. Organized and efficient, she really does put his methods to shame. Though to be honest, that's not too hard, when he sort of just shoves a textbook in front of himself and them reads it until his head hurts.

She delves into a speech about making notes and cards, all the things to help his memory, while he nods dumbly. The fear settling in his bones is hidden, yet at the same time he wonders whether she can see right through his fake smile. Especially as she gives his hand another reassuring squeeze.

It's late as they head back to the dorms, walking hand in hand through the bustling streets on New York. As per usual, it's Rachel doing most of the talking. He's happy to listen the rhythm of her voice, how it raises with her bubbling excitement. Until she's suddenly quiet.

He turns to her, curious.

All he has in return is a smirk aimed directly his way. For a moment his heart drops – she knows he wasn't listening, and that usually turns her all huffy and pouty.

Not tonight. Eyes glowing, she tugs his hand that little bit harder, urging him to hurry. "Rach? What're you doing?"

"Let's go back to your room," she announces. And for a moment he's more confused that ever, because she has class early in the morning and – _wait_... His eyes narrow in on her expression again, realization hitting him like a brick. His own grin grows. Finn's long strides grow even longer, now suddenly pulling her along.

Cute giggles come from Rachel as he practically pulls her into a run, the two a giddy pair as they hurry through the streets. In their haste, they narrowly miss hitting people and run into a couple of puddles, but it only fuels their state.

Ten minutes later and they're landing on Finn's bed a flurry of limbs. Even so, their lips stay connected the entire time, ferociously kissing the other. Finn wastes no time in tugging off his pants, throwing them somewhere across the room, then he hisses as Rachel palms the growing bulge in his boxers. Her touch is strong, rubbing his chubby into full erection in a matter of seconds. "Rach," he breathes, "fuck, baby – not so fast... please." She pulls her hand away with a pout, though quickly occupies herself with joining him in his undress.

As inch by inch of her smooth body is revealed, he feels his mouth water, raking in her glorious curves and tan skin. He pulls her against him, his fingers dipping down into her panties to tease the silky folds. "You're so wet," he whispers huskily in her ear, then nibbles the lobe knowing that it drives her crazy.

She lets off a keening little whine. "Your fault."

With a smirk, he pushes two fingers inside of her entrance, marvelling at the way she gasps lightly. He pushes all the way inside, and then slowly – purposely – drags them out again. The teasing has her breathing all over the place, hands clinging to him to keep herself upright. "Faster," she cries out, closing her eyes at the feel of him inside her while his lips continue their migration southwards, meeting with her small breasts. She's so slippery now, his fingers moving in and out with ease, even with her tight walls pushing back on him.

Finn feels his dick twitch, demanding to be freed from his boxers. When Rachel's thigh brushes against the bulge, he groans loudly at the pleasure that jolts through his body. Her hands fumble at the hem of his boxers, until his large cock springs out, pointing directly at her. She takes in the sight of it with panting breath and wide eyes. For a few brief moments, her fingers tightly grasp him, causing Finn to his and curse under his breath.

"Rach – I... I don't wanna come yet."

She nods, sighing in disappointment as he pulls his fingers from her, tasting her sweetness with a smirk. Impatient, she yanks down her soaked panties and practically forces him to the bed. "I want to be on top," she tells him, reaching down to kiss and caress his chest.

"O-okay," he agrees, feeling precum gush from the tip of his cock as she jerks him a couple of times. With one final kiss, she positions him just below her and sinks onto him. The room is filled with their groans and pants. She steadies herself with two hands two his chest, Finn's clutching at her hips, before she rocks back and forth, simultaneously lifting herself up and down. Her wet heat grips him so well, leaving Finn in utter bliss below her.

As she moves, she's reduced to whines and cries of pleasure. She controls the tempo, quickening and slowing to tease Finn, but in the end they both know that it'll just make them come that little bit harder. Rachel pushes herself down deeply, Finn filling her to the hilt. She does this again, and again.

Until their cries gain volume, her voice more high pitched as they steadily build closer to their climaxes. Finn does his best to push his hips up in response, connecting them all that more. But with a few more thrusts he's done, his seed spilling out inside of her wet heat while Rachel continues to ride him. Crying out her name, he thrusts still, pushing and pushing, until she joins him over the edge. Her walls clamp tightly around him, a gush of her own wetness mixing with his cum, before she eventually slumps on top of his chest. The exertion has her eyes closed, breathing heavily.

Finn smiles up at her. The wild hair, the flushed face, the swollen lips. It's times like this that he swears she's at her most beautiful.

She peeks at him through hooded eyelashes, sighing contently. "That was amazing."

"It was," he agrees, his hand stroking her hair away from her face. "It was a pretty great distraction from worrying about finals and the draft..." He grins, glancing up at her.

"Distraction?" She raises her brow. "I'm only a _distraction_?"

"No, no." His hands are still placed firmly on her taut hips, and he quickly backpedals. "It's just, whenever we're _together_, nothing else matters. It's just you and me, and the rest of the world can suck it."

"Hmmm," she chuckles.

The way that her smile grows fondly tells him that he's said the right thing. Especially when she leans down and captures his lips in a slow and loving kiss, fingers gently combing through his thick hair.

"I should go."

"Rach," he whines out her name, hand slides to the small of her back. She shivers in pleasure. "Stay."

Despite the soft, yet demanding way he speaks the words, she finds herself shaking her head. "If I stay, I won't get any sleep and I have class tomorrow, then I have dinner with my dads." She kisses his cheek gently, "you can come if you like."

"I can't. I have practice tomorrow."

She slumps with disappointment. "They like you, you know. You don't have to hide from them."

"I know they do," he laughs, "and I'm not trying to get out of it. I really do have practice." And that's the truth. He'd really thought the the Berry's would hate him. Rachel is their whole world and he was sure that anyone that "stole her away" wouldn't be too popular to the men. Besides, they're like, just as dedicated Giants fans as Rachel, maybe _more_ so, and yeah, he hadn't been expecting a warm welcome.

But Hiram and Leroy had been talkative, eager to get to know him, and more than happy to share stories and jokes with Finn. It really was a change from the massacre that Finn had anticipated.

"Fine, I'll just have to miss you."

"I'll miss you more," he grins. Rachel grins right back.

* * *

"The apartment was okay," she shrugs, "but it was _so_ expensive. My dads said that when I graduate I have to pay for rent myself."

He gives her a sympathetic smile, "you'll find the right one."

"I won't be able to find anything decent without enough money – a waitress job hardly pays for that. And my dad says he doesn't want me living by myself in some "sketchy" area."

Finn nods along with her. While he isn't exactly thrilled by that idea, either, he knows that she can take care of herself. She's twenty one, on the cusp of graduating, and she can more than handle herself if the occasion arises. Still, the money problem persists.

She eyes him as he makes his way through his thought process, until Finn finally notices. "Can't you like, get a dog or something to protect you? Then he won't worry."

"Oh yeah, and add more expenses to the growing list." Sighing in defeat, she drops her chin onto her balled up fists and stares ahead defiantly.

He sighs along with her then.

"It's easy for you," she grumbles, "you're just moving back in with your parents."

"Rach, that's hardly what I want. But if I don't get picked for NFL draft, I need to start paying off my student debt somehow, and Burt'll let me work at the shop. But the _last_ thing I want is to be tiptoeing around them again."

Suddenly Rachel sits up, like she was punched under her chin, and stares toward him with what he calls her 'crazy idea eyes'. She bounces in her seat, a ball of overcharged energy. Finn gives a tentative smile.

"What if we move in together?"

He tilts his head, "what?"

"Oh Finn it'd be perfect! We could get somewhere nicer because the rent would be halved and if you do work for Burt, you can still do it without living with your parents." While he only stares at her, she pushes forward with another point, "and it's not exactly like we aren't comfortable around each other. We could even..." she suddenly blushes, "share a room, if you like."

Rachel waits on tenterhooks for him to reply, her face straining this way and that with anxiety.

Finn's first thought is that he wants to. Like, sharing an apartment with Rachel would be awesome, because it'd be just them to do whatever they please, whenever they please. But is it too soon? They've been dating for a good few months, but most people move in together after like, a year. They're not rushing, is it? Even if it they were, Finn finds himself struggling to care. This is him and Rachel.

On paper, they shouldn't work. But somehow, they _do_.

As he looks at Rachel, he can see her doubting herself now, wondering if she's gone too far. He reaches out to take her small hand in his, smiling. "You know, I think that'd be a pretty good idea."

Her eyes light up, and she throws herself at him before he even has a chance to react. Rachel fits snugly in his arms, nestled under his chin. "Please tell me you're being serious."

"Why would I lie about that? Besides, I think we'd make a pretty good team."

"That we would," she beams in agreement. "Oh this is so exciting. Now we can start looking together and we'll have our own room and we can decorate however we want."

He knows that he should be feeling scared – even a little bit anxious – but the idea of them having _their_ room actually makes his heart thump faster, his fingers squeezing Rachel's.

"Okay, but no Giants things, Rach. I'm being serious," he adds when she shakes her head at him in amusement.

"Fine. No Jets, either." She points at him. "My dads would have a heart attack if they came and saw that. They'd _disown_ me."

"If they don't like the Jets that much, then why do they like me?"

Her gaze suddenly drops to the floor, her cheeks tinting pink.

"Rach?"

"I actually – um, when the subject of football came up I told them that you were a Giants fan." His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, jaw falling slack. "I just, if I told them that you were an extremely dedicated Jets fan, I'd get so much flack for it. These guys take football really seriously, you know."

"Oh I never could have guessed," he cries out sarcastically. "So what? I just have to pretend to like the Giants for the sake of your dads? No way!"

"Just don't mention football in front of them," she tries.

Staring to her with incredulity in his eyes, he shakes his head. "I'm here on a football scholarship. It's what I want to do as a career. How are we supposed to just _avoid_ that subject?"

She bites her lip, clearly having nothing to respond with. Wisely, she doesn't say anything to annoy him further.

"Rachel," he practically hisses.

"I just panicked, okay? You know what they're like."

He sinks further into the seat, throwing his head back in annoyance – but mostly so that he can't see the pout on her face.

She leans closer to him, "Finn, they wouldn't let me live it down, you know."

He _does_ know. And he totally gets it, okay? 'Cause it's the same way that his family tease him about dating Rachel, jokingly dubbing him a "traitor". He lets out a sigh that gives himself away too easily, if the way she smiles is any indication. "Well, we can't have that, can we?"

"No," she says sweetly.

Rachel inches ever closer, tucking herself neatly against his side. He raises his eyebrow. "I really hate you," he tells her. "_Betraying_ my team for you." He shakes his head, though strangely most of his annoyance has dissipated.

"Hey, you can actually pretend to be a fan of a _winning_ team for once, you should be thanking me."

"_Ha ha._"

"You know it's true." She gives a mega watt grin.

"The Jets are good, and one day you'll wake up and see that."

"Tim Tebow." Her words are blunt, "that is all I have to say."

Eyes narrowing, he playfully nudges her, "you want me to lie to your parents, or do you want me to go to your house next time wearing every Jets thing I own?" And yeah, that's a _lot_.

She shrinks, the smile falling in an instant. "Fine. No more teasing."

* * *

He tries to drown out the incessant banging on his door, but it's Rachel, and she's persistent. It's actually a miracle that she hasn't got someone to knock the door down for her by now.

With tears still stinging his eyes, and pain tearing away at his heart, he stumbles across the room to open it. She takes one look at his red rimmed eyed. She doesn't need to ask, she _knows_ – and merely nanoseconds later she's throwing her arms around him.

Finn can't find it in himself to speak, even as she whispers apologies to him. As though it's _her_ fault. He only holds her tighter, letting his tears out silently.

For a moment, she tugs herself back from the embrace, eyes cast sadly around the dim room, where his posters are scattered on the floor, things knocked askew with upset, with anger. Finn watches the sympathy spread over her features, and he turns away.

"Finn," she breathes his name, so softly – like he's made of glass. Right now he _feels_ like he's made of glass. And a part of him would be okay if all that shattered, if he just ceased to be.

But then her fingers are clasped around his arms, reminding him of his solidity. That he's there. Maybe in despair, maybe more hopeless than years, but he's _there_. With her.

"They didn't want me," he croaks out, his voice being strangled by his own sadness.

Rachel shushes him, pulling him into her arms again. He can feel her heart beating quickly in her chest, and he's sure that if he listens hard enough he can hear it breaking in two for him. "They didn't want me."

"It's okay," she cradles the back of his head, each movement slow and deliberate. He can feels her fingers ever so gently soothing through his hair, tracing patters at the top of his neck. Even with the anguish he feels, her presence gives him momentary peace. Something that he desperately needs. Finn closes his eyes, trying not to think of probably the worst few days of his life. Waiting and waiting, only for his dreams to be shattered when they were possible at their biggest.

Fear suddenly grips his heart as he considers what this means for the future. He'd put his bets on getting drafted. He wouldn't have cared which team it was. Okay, _of course_ he wants to play for the Jets. They're the reason why he wanted to be a professional footballer in the first place, after seeing their winning Super bowl game in 1969. He remembers sitting in awe as a child, watching the admiration that his family had for this teams, and he wanted that. He still does.

But... but what if that never happens? What if his college football career _is_ his entire football career? He shudders, scared. No – _terrified_. This can't be it. This can't be everything he's worked toward; having his future crumble before him.

All Finn's sure about now is that Rachel's embrace is more comforting than she'll ever know, and his heart lays with devastation in its path.

* * *

He hears Rachel before he actually sees her, laughing and chatting animatedly along with her friends. Turning, he finds her with the brightest smile. She spinss happily, her gown fluttering slightly in the wind, and she has to reach a hand to the black cap to keep it steady.

As she catches sight of him, her smile only grows.

The one that he returns is timid, unsure. Like he doesn't think he deserves to be smiling. They have been like that for the last few days. You know, having to create a whole new future isn't easy, especially when you had your heart set on one thing and one thing only.

And he's like, super grateful that he can go and work for Burt. It's something. It sounds pretty adult to say, but money is money. And he sure as hell needs it.

Rachel catches up to him in a few strides, pulling him into a sweet smelling hug. He easily returns it.

"Can you believe we're finally graduating?" she asks, giddily.

For a moment, he lets himself get pretty giddy, too. This has been three years in the making and despite everything, he should feel kinda proud, right? "It's crazy," he says, "we'll be like, real adults now."

She looks to him with trepidation in her eyes. "Adults," she whispers. He thinks this is the first time he's ever seen Rachel appear even slightly scared. He gently squeezes her shoulder, returning some of the reassurance that she's given him in the past few days.

"You'll be fine, you know. I bet you'll be on Broadway in no time." He gives a fond smile, because she's already planned at least five auditions, and they haven't even gone through with the graduation ceremony yet. Sometimes he wishes he had her drive.

"While I don't doubt that, I wish everything wasn't going by so fast."

He litters a few sweet kisses across her hairline. "Well before your dads take you home, we could go back to my room. You know, have a little while to say goodbye to our college life." He hits her with a killer smirk, watching the pink rise to her cheeks.

She leans against his chest. "I like the idea of that."

* * *

Their apartment is tiny. Like, seriously, the _least_ Finn – sized place he's ever been to. He always catches his feet on all the furniture, and bangs his head on the kitchen cabinets. But it's theirs, and they have their room (the only bedroom; _also_ tiny) and he got to help decorate and organize all the furniture (mostly cheap stuff or what their parents had given them) and it's... well, he may hate the tiny little shoebox that he lives in, but he loves it too. Because Rachel lives there with him.

It's a little scary, how quickly they transition into actual adults. Getting up every day and working, arguing about whose turn it is to wash the dishes, or who used the last of the toothpaste. He totally freaks when he turns down sex because he's _tired_. Like, they're a twenty one year old couple and he's too _tired_ to sleep with his insanely hot girlfriend?

He wishes he could go back to college, and relive those three years again. Back then , he still thought he could play for the NFL, but now, working ten hour shifts for Burt, that dream seems further away than ever.

* * *

Rachel totally aces an audition for _Rent_. And she makes him watch the movie then, to which he thinks it's kinda weird how much she looks like the woman playing _Maureen_, the character she's got a callback for.

Two days later when the news comes that she's got the role, he insists that they go out for dinner. She dressed up in her nicest dress, with pretty make-up, and he actually wears a suit. When he comes out of their room, she's admiring the flowers he'd bought her, placed on the small table in the corner of the living room. "I really love you," she says, voice sugary sweet and super proud.

He feels his heart swell, echoing the sentiment with a chaste kiss to her forehead. "Let's go and celebrate the first of many roles," he smiles, especially when she jumps to her tiptoes to catch his lips in another kiss, this one deeper, one that he doesn't want to tear himself away from.

Half an hour later and they're settled in her favorite Thai restaurant, Rachel looking beautiful as she's bathed in a soft light.

"We haven't been here in a while," she comments, sipping on her red wine.

"Life has been busy. It's not all about college parties any more." He chuckles lightly. Rachel smiles, too. "And I know we're not exactly living pay check to pay check, but you want to buy that new bed, and we're planning on going to Florida in a few months."

"So tonight is just a fluke?" she raises her brow.

He gives a half smile. "We're celebrating."

"I would've been happy with staying at home with you. You're my favorite snuggle buddy," she grins.

"Later," he promises, "and we can do that all the time. I wanted this to be special, for you."

Her eyes warm with happiness, hand reaching out to take hold of his. Rachel's soft fingers against his hand, Finn holding on tightly and never wanting to let go.

"Finn? Rachel?"

Both turn at the sound of the familiar voice, finding Sam Evans in their wake. Both smile widely at the sight of him, Finn jumping from his seat to greet him. "Hey dude, how're you doing?"

"Pretty great," he smiles, then peers back at one of the tables, "I'm just here with a date, but I thought I recognized you. I haven't seen you since graduation. Are you still living in New York?"

Rachel nods, "we live together, actually. We have since we graduated."

"Congratulations, I'm glad it's all going well." A soft laugh follows, "I remember when you two couldn't even watch a football game together without arguing."

"Still can't," Finn chuckles, thought he mention of football brings a pang that he'd been glad to get rid of. In its return, the smile slowly slips away. And Rachel notices, because she gives his hand a squeeze, eyes finding his.

Sam doesn't register, and continues even as the couple have their attention elsewhere. "So what are you doing now?"

The question makes him wince, though he tries not to let it show. "Working for my step-dad right now, but Rach has just got a role on _Broadway_. That's what we're celebrating tonight." He's all too eager to take the attention off himself. Thankfully it works, Sam smiling down at Rachel and asking her when opening night will be.

He breathes a sigh of relief – the last thing he wants to do is talk about how sucky his job is, when the his sixteen year old self thought he'd be on the eve of his professional career by now.

Upon hearing Rachel passionately talk about the role, he tunes back into the conversation, in time for her to return to question to Sam. "Oh, I'm actually at Buffalo. I'm – uh, playing as wide receiver at the moment, and I'll start this upcoming season."

"_Oh."_

He tries to keep the jealously from reaching his face, but he isn't sure that he succeeds. "That's... that's pretty awesome," he says, voice strained. He's happy for the guy, but it still sucks. _Big time. _

"I have to get back to my date," Sam throws a look over his shoulder to the bored looking woman, though reaches into his pocket and hands a card to Finn. "Call me though, bro. We should get together some time – I haven't hung with anyone from college other than Puck. It'd be great to all do something."

"Yeah, cool." He says quietly, his best attempt at the smile only mediocre. As the pair of them watch Sam walk away, he sighs. "I didn't even know that he got drafted. Some friend I am."

"Finn – don't be so hard on yourself. You were having a rough time and then graduation happened, us being busy with the apartment and working... no one can really blame you."

Shrugging, he says, "I still feel bad though. I wanna be happy for him, but I'm just really damn jealous."

"That's okay," she nods.

"Rach."

"It _is_ okay. Finn, that's where you pictured yourself and seeing someone else live out the life you'd planned is by no means easy." She watches him slowly, the says, "maybe you should meet up with him again. Maybe he can help you."

His brow furrows, "help me how?"

"The teams have training camps – maybe he could put a good word in for you, talk to some people? Finn, he might be your way of getting back into football."

Even though her words should offer her, he finds himself slumping. It's a struggle to stay hopeful when he's already had one painful rejection, "if they didn't pick me in the draft, then they probably won't in training camps. What's the point in wasting all that energy?"

She opens her mouth to speak, but he only continues, "can we talk about something else?"

Rachel relents, but the look on her face indicates that this isn't the end of this. He sighs.

* * *

He's half asleep when he hears the bedroom door open, steps padding around the room quietly. The bedside lamp is turned on, giving the room a dim glow. He shifts in bed, finding Rachel slipping off her clothes from rehearsal and into something more comfortable, which just happens to be a custom Jets shirt that his mom had bought it.

The thin material drowns her and well, it's a shirt for the team that she claims to hate. He smirks. "Stealing my shirts again?"

Rachel jumps at the sound of his voice, letting her hair fall loosely from the band and down her shoulders. "It's comfortable," she argues with a cute little pout. His eyes close sleepily, then open again. When they do, she's moving to get under the comforter with him.

He suddenly hisses, "jeez, Rach. Your feet are cold."

"Shouldn't you be asleep already?" she grumbles, moving to readjust her pillow.

"You woke me up." He slips closer to her, wrapping an arm around her slender waist. In one quick move, he tugs her closer and she melts into his side. "Did you have a good rehearsal?"

"Hmmm, it was fun. But toward the end I kept feeling a tickle in my throat. I hope I haven't caught anything..." Worry seeps into her features, and Finn gently kisses it anyway. "Anyway," she says between giggles, "what about you? Was work okay?"

A yawn breaks up the conversation, "yeah, I guess so. I don't know, I'm good at it – I wish it was more satisfying and stuff. I wish I _enjoyed_ it."

She nods, her hand placed on his taut chest. "You can still always call Sam, ask him if he can help you." He turns away. "Come on, Finn."

"Rach, there's no point. I won't get in."

"Bu - "

"I'm pretty tired. Can we just go to sleep?"

Rachel huffs, her touch retracting as she goes to turn off the lamp. He waits for her to move back into his grasp, but she doesn't. And he stares at the back of her head sadly until he falls asleep an hour later.

* * *

She seems extra irritable in the morning, so he makes her morning tea and leaves it next to her fruit salad. He leaves just as she's waking up, and he watches her slowly sip the drink. When their eyes meet, he's apologetic – Rachel's sad. She doesn't say anything to him, but she does let him quickly kiss her on the way out the door.

* * *

When he returns home, he does a little housework before starting on dinner.

It's then that he notices the card with Sam's number on, stuck to the front of the refrigerator with that kitten magnet that Rachel loves so much.

There's no message, she doesn't need to see anything for him to understand what she's getting at. He only sighs again. Doesn't she get it? He's not good enough. That's already been made pretty clear.

He ignores the card, focusing all his efforts into making dinner.

At eight, the front door goes. Rachel's humming to herself as she steps inside, shrugging off her coat and then following the smell of his cooking. He smiles at the sound of her voice, though it falters slightly when he suddenly finds himself staring straight at her.

"Hi," she starts, hesitantly.

"Hey babe."

Her eyes shift over to the fridge, where the business card remains untouched. She isn't angry then, just disappointed. He can see it lingering in her gaze. He forces his eyes back down to the pan.

She moves up behind him, but doesn't wrap her arms around his waist like usual. "What's for dinner?"

"Stir fry," Finn says quietly, briefly turning to glance at her. "It'll be ready soon."

"Alright. I'll be in the living room."

He gives a resigned sigh when she's gone.

* * *

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," he snaps at her after he practically drags the girl into the back yard of his mom's house. Of course he should've realized that Rachel would mention the whole situation to his mom, to get more people encouraging him to take the first step. _Especially_ his mom. But god, did she have to bring it up in the middle of dinner, putting him instantly on the spot?

She only glares in response. "Finn, you can't ignore this forever. You know that there is a good chance that Sam can help you, but you're either too scared about being rejected again or you're just insistent on ignoring this until it goes away. But guess what? I'm not going to let you ignore it. This is your _future_!"

"No, it's not. It's not my future. It _was_ – but not any more." Sadness grips at his heart upon admitting that, but in all honesty nothing had been more heartbreaking than dedicating his life to something and then not having it happen.

It's silent, an awful since that feels like it's smothering them.

"My future is working for Burt, for being with _you_. You're the star in this relationship; you're the one that'll win all the awards and have fans and be asked for your autograph. Not me."

She shakes her head, staring to him and she's clearly _trying_ to understand. But she can't. "Finn," she says softly, voice thick with upset and sadness, and distress at his words. "there's no reason why we both can't have that."

"Come on," he gives a humorless laugh, "you're the special one, Rach."

"We're _both_ special!" she throws back, shock evident on her face. She reaches out to take his hand, but he only snatches it back. "Why are you acting like this?"

He keeps his lips firmly pursed together, forehead creased tightly.

"Acting like what? Look, Rachel, I appreciate what you're doing, I really do, but we both know how this is going to end." He holds onto his composure – only barely – as the feelings of rejection creep up on him again. "My dream is over."

Rachel huffs a little now, her nostrils flaring as she does so. "You can't give up because you were told no once. If I gave up for every audition that didn't work out, or every time I was told I wasn't going to make it, then I know for damn sure that I _wouldn't_ make it. Not if I just gave up." She steps forward again, voice a little pissed but still caring, "if you don't try, then it's never going to happen, Finn." She folds her arms across her chest tightly, her eyes intent on him, "what have you got to lose?"

There's a long pause then, and with each passing second Rachel's gaze has him feeling guiltier than ever, especially as she steps back inside the house. With one last look to the door, he sits down at the step and drops his head into his hands.

He has a _lot_ to think over.

* * *

She storms back into the apartment first, after a tense ride with Burt where the normally quiet man had to pick a conversation out of thin air. Finn lingers back a couple of seconds, figuring that she needs to blow off some steam.

Rachel heads straight for their bedroom, the door slamming closed after her. He sighs; clearly that wasn't an invitation. With his shoulders slumped, he moves to the spare closet and pulls out some blankets. They're kind of scratchy, and way too small for him, but they'll have to do. He manages to fit himself snugly into the couch, a plethora of cushions beneath him to find some sort of comfort, before he wills himself to go to sleep.

By the time he wakes up the next morning, the only clue that Rachel was there is the sweet scent of her perfume lingering around the house.

With a tired groan, he forces himself off the couch and pads into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. As he stands drinking the hot, steaming liquid, his eyes move over to the refrigerator, and it takes only a couple of seconds for him to reach out for it, sucking in a deep, pensive breath.

* * *

Rachel returns home to an explosion of flour and sugar and all sorts of ingredients in the small kitchen. Her mild confusion turns into full concern as she spies Finn in the middle of it, disappointment seeping from his every movement. "Finn?" she calls, the tone of her voice asking all the questions.

Head shooting upwards when he hears her. "Oh... hey." His face splits into a wide smile.

"What's all this?" she inquires, her lips twitching with a smile of their own.

"Well I – I wanted to apologize for sort of blowing off your advice by making those really good sugar cookies that you make. But I've learned that I'm not the best baker in the world..." His eyes land on the mess surrounding him, hand idly scratching the top of his head where some stray flour seems to have hidden. "And I burnt the first batch – then the second one smelled really weird and now I'm trying again but -"

She steps forward, placing a hand on his forearm, a soft smirk playing on her lips,"I'll help you." Giving a small shrug, she adds (with a hint of smugness), "I'm kind of famous for these, you know"

Finn responds with a grateful look, smiling as she surprises him with a sweet kiss. Rachel takes the bowl away, mumbling something about what ingredients he's used, when he realizes she hasn't even asked _why_ he's baking, which is sort of the whole reason, right? And he's hardly the most prolific baker; he thought she'd be more surprised.

"So," he starts as she weighs out some sugar, "I called Sam today."

She stills in her actions, eyes widening curiously as if to tell him to go on.

He does. "And we met up... he got me a meeting with this agent. A Will Schuester -"

Rachel jumps on (not at, _on_) him before he gets the chance to continues, chattering with excitement over how amazing this is, her eyes glowing proudly. Still stunned silent, he lets her litter his entire face with sweet tasting kisses, immensely enjoying the attention from Rachel. When she calms, now not bouncing around wildly – but her arms remain slung around his waist – she beams up at him. "Thank you for listening to me, Finn."

He gives a breathless sigh. "Thank _you_ for not giving up on me. For pushing me in the right direction. For... you know, keeping me on track for my dream, even when I thought it was gone."

She smiles, almost bashfully, and he kisses all the shyness away. That leaves her looking to him fondly. "Hey, you may have horrible taste in football teams, but I know how talented you are, Finn. And I'm really proud of you."

He returns her embrace, holding her slender body flush against his. "Love you, Rach. So much." His chin nestles at the top of the coconut smelling hair. Finn gives a content smile as she echoes his sentiment.

After a few minutes, she sighs. "What about this agent then?"

"Well he can get me into a training camp if he likes me enough and thinks I'm good enough." Nerves tremble in his words; Rachel holds him tighter. "And then if I do, I could... I could get into the NFL."

"Not if, Finn," she corrects, "you playing football professionally is an inevitability, just like me being a big Broadway star."

He grins. You know, he might actually believe her.

* * *

For the first time in months, it feels as though fate is _finally_ on his side again, and the meeting with Will Schuester goes better than expected. They talk like they've known each other for years, about football, a little about his personal life (he may boast about how awesome Rachel is, just because he can) and Will has an answer for him before they've even finished lunch.

That answer being _yes_.

He runs home that night, bursting into the apartment and startling poor Rachel. Well, only for a couple of seconds. "I hope this means that it's good news," she starts, to which he grins, fist pumping into the air proudly. "Oh Finn, I'm so happy for you!"

They meet into the middle of the room, a searing kiss holding them together. And yeah, it totally ends up being a heated makeout against the wall (their neighbor may or may not have banged against said wall to get them to stop) before Rachel's tugging herself away, his success a perfect reason to go out and celebrate.

The pair of them indulge on an expensive restaurant, Finn using most of his wage from that week so far. But he can hardly bring himself to care as they stroll through the city later that night, Rachel snuggled into his side as far as she can go.

"This is it," she says, "the start something special. I can feel it."

He raises his brow, slowing their pace. "You can, can you?"

"Hmm, I'm very gifted, you know."

"I don't doubt that." She gives a small chuckle, eyes intent on him.

"Thank you for dinner, Finn. It was wonderful"

"Yeah," he agrees, "and probably the last thing I'll be able to treat myself with for months. Will said that I should have a special diet, to keep myself in shape as much as possible. I sort of have let myself go a little since college."

She gasps, pulling away at his words. "Finn, you have _not_." She runs her fingers over his shirt clad chest, which isn't as firm as it used to be, but still toned. "You have a wonderful body."

"I have to be perfect," he states, quietly. "If I want to be chosen by a head coach, I have to be better than everyone else." He feels his passion igniting once more, a fire spreading though his body. "And I _have_ to get chosen."

Rachel nods; she knows that feeling. "And you will, I know it."

His smiles grows then, impossibly large. They return to a comfortable silence, their gazes moving around the streets and to the darkened sky. The sunlight is barely peeking through all the buildings, though it's not entirely night time yet. Rachel's eyes stare up just as she feels light rain beginning to fall. "Oh great," she mumbles.

He rolls his eyes, shrugging off his jacket and passing it to the girl as the rain starts to fall more heavily. She holds it over her head for protection, and their slow walk turns into a jog as they try to flee the sudden rain. Their joined hands swing back and forth, Rachel dragging Finn to their apartment complex.

Giddiness takes hold of them, and they end up laughing senselessly as they run, especially as Finn kicks a puddle towards Rachel. She squeals, laughing loudly and jumping back. His happiness accumulates so quickly that he feels drunk with it, reaching for his girlfriend. When he has hold of her, he lifts her with ease and spins her as they run. Rachel clutches to him, but he can hear her still laughing, almost breathless as she does so. His jacket slips from her fingers, hitting the wet floor.

But he doesn't care. Not as he encases her in his arms, their movement coming to a slow halt while his hazel eyes gaze into her chocolate ones. He closes the gap, kissing her plump lips with everything he's got, silently thanking her and loving her and promising that this is it. This is forever.

* * *

Going to Rachel's dads' house on a match day was _not_ a good idea.

He thought Rachel was bad, but her dads prove to be worse, passionately chanting their support and commentating on the game. And what's worse, they think _he's_ a fan for that team.

It's not like he doesn't know anything about the Giants, so he can fake his way through a lot of things. Say this here and that there – but the passion is something he can't feign. Even so, he still tries, for Rachel's sake. Okay, it may be her fault that he has to pretend to be a damn Giants fan, but he loves her and he's sure that this comes under being a good boyfriend.

While Hiram and Rachel continue shouting at the TV, wearing matching jerseys and frustrated expressions, Leroy invites him into the kitchen for a beer. A little nervously, he follows. He's like, the sterner of her dads and the more serious one, so yeah – it's normal for him to be scared.

"How's it going with that agent?" he asks curiously, a smile on his lips.

Finn clears his throat, taking the outstretched drink from the man. "Pretty good, sir. He says he can definitely get me into a training camp. It'll be a lot of hard work, but it'll be worth it."

"That it will. It's not everyday that you've got the opportunity to play in the NFL."

"It's been my dream ever since I was a kid," he admits.

Leroy gives a knowing smile, taking a small sip of his beer. "What'd be your dream team to play for?" he asks, leaning back against the counter.

He stalls at that, feeling a bit silly for considering it total betrayal to lie and say the Giants. 'Cause okay, no one other than Leroy will here him say it, but the Jets are his team. And he just can't say it out loud, even for the sake of keeping up this little white lie. "I don't really know," he says.

"Oh come on, everyone has that team that they'd give up everything for."

"Yeah, I guess so..." Finn continues nervously.

"So who is it then?" He tilts his head as he asks, then smirks, "the Jets?"

Finn freezes, head snapping towards Leroy with a look of worry and confusion settling into his features. "W-what?"

"You think I don't remember you, Finn? You and Rachel caused quite the scene at that game when you were kids, and I had to endure her lamenting about the loss of her jersey for nearly a month afterwards." At the sheepish expression on Finn's face, he laughs, "don't worry, I won't tell anyone that I know your little secret – but honestly, I don't know how Rachel got you to pretend to be a Giants fan for our benefit. I really don't mind who you support, as long as you keep my little girl happy."

He feels tense, heart beating quickly. Though Leroy's words are said gently, he finds himself unable to breathe at being caught. "And that you do," Leroy continues, a smile growing. "Happier than I've ever seen her – you're a good kid, Finn."

"Thank you. I really do love her, sir."

"It's Leroy," he pats his back, "I think we're past the whole sir business, don't you?"

His heart skips a beat. "Yes sir – I – I mean, Leroy."

The older man chuckles, "let's get back to the game. Oh, and don't mention that fact that you're a Jets fan to Hiram. He won't remember you from all those years ago – he's got the memory of a goldfish, that man. But you'll never hear the end of it if he knows the truth."

He nods, and follows him back into the living room.

* * *

The alarm beeps obnoxiously in his ear, Finn reaching over to silence it with a clumsy hand. He's tired, eyes glued together and refusing to open, and he knows that he can spare a couple of minutes. Rolling onto his other side, he finds Rachel slowly rousing. Her eyes flutter open, before landing on him with a smile. "Mhm, morning," she says sleepily.

"You don't have to get up yet," he tells her, unable to resist pulling the girl closer for a morning snuggle. Her body is warm and soft against his, and he never wants to let go. Especially when her lips brush along his morning stubble and she giggles at the ticklish feeling.

She kisses his lips, "well it's too late now. I'm already up."

Finn's sneaky fingers manage to squeeze her ass, "no complaints from me."

Twisting on the bed, she stretches out the sleep from her limbs, Finn's mouth practically watering when the skin of her taut stomach becomes exposed. Pleasant sensations start to stir under his boxers, but they're ruined as she mumbles out, "don't you need to go and get ready?" The words are mumbled into her pillow.

"Yeah, I guess so," Finn yawns, eyes flitting over her once more. Oh, how tempting it is to stay in bed, but _no_ – he has a job to do. And as much as he hates to admit it, that job doesn't involve having awesome morning sex with Rachel... who's already falling back asleep now that she's found a comfortable spot again.

He smile, leaning forward to steal a kiss, before he's forcing himself out of bed and staring jealously back at Rachel. After a quick shower and a change into some work out clothes, he steps back into their room, surprised to find an empty, made bed. The sound of cooking has his ears pricking up, nose twitching as he smells pancakes. "_Yes_," he quietly cheers; Rachel's pancakes are literally the best thing in the world.

She looks beautiful, her dark hair tumbling down her back in loose curls, body lost in the material of one of his sleep shirts. Turning, her chocolate eyes find his, a smile to match the bright glint in them.

"You're not sleeping in?"

Giving a light shake of her head, she says, "I thought I'd treat you to breakfast – I haven't even _seen_ you for the past few mornings."

Finn moves up behind her, arm slinging around her shoulder. "You know I'm not supposed to be eating pancakes, right?"

"Oh, shush. You've been working so hard, Finn. And besides," she turns to look up at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, "what they don't know won't hurt them. You couldn't resist my cooking if you tried, anyway."

He laughs, but that doesn't make it any less true. "Love you, babe."

He squeezes into one of the seats at the table, for Rachel joins him just a few minutes later with a plate full of blueberry pancakes for the pair of them. He makes a happy noise as he has a mouthful of the velvety goodness in a matter of seconds, "it's a good thing you don't make these a lot." He says, "'cause I'm pretty sure I'd weigh like, a _billion pounds_ since I'd eat so many."

"I know," she chuckles, "you eat like a horse. I hope that our kids don't inherit your appetite." Her laughter suddenly freezes, eyes widening a little as she realizes what she's just said. Noticing this, Finn only offers her a soft smile.

"Yeah, if they do we're going to be super broke from buying so much food," he grins, hoping that it catches on. It does, the color returning to Rachel's cheeks and the panic averted. "But hey," he points out, "you said you wanna have at least two Tony awards before we have any kids, so I think we're safe from my monstrous appetite being passed on for now."

She laughs, the air around them comfortable again. He beams with happiness, wondering how in the world he ever got so lucky.

* * *

_One year later..._

He can feel his nerves growing with each passing second, especially as he stops to think that this is really happening, he's playing in the fucking NFL and he's totally awake. Not dreaming one bit. He's pinched himself enough to make sure that's the case.

Outside, he can hear the roaring stadium, hundreds of thousands of people here to watch a good game, and Finn's determined to make his first one memorable. After all the work he's put into this, all the sacrifices and tears and disappointments, he deserves that.

It's not too long before the game now, but he feels like he's ready. No, he knows he is. Training has improved him so much, and he's improved the areas that he didn't think possible. In the end it'd earned him his dream spot, playing for the Jets. Even if it was touch and go for a while.

"Hey you," he turns at the sound of Rachel's voice, is heart still doing an excited little dance upon hearing it. Finn can't help but laugh at her "Team Finn" shirt because no matter how much she loves and supports him, there's n_o way_ he can get her to wear a Jets shirt in public for him. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I'm about to barf up lunch."

She pulls a face, nose scrunching up, but still moves to wrap her arms around him. "You'll be fine, I know you will."

"But what if I fumble the ball or do something really stupid?"

"Finn, you're an amazing player, you won't. Just think of it as one of your old college games, you did so well then."

"This isn't a college game, Rach." He gives out a shuddery breath.

Standing on her tiptoes, she presses a sweet kiss to his lips, "I believe in you. " Just as her hands are sliding down his neck, he takes hold of the left one, admiring the engagement ring in plain view. The few diamonds sparkle in the artificial light above them, and Finn smiles at seeing it on her hand.

"It looks good." he grins, voice brimming with happiness. All worries of football are suddenly gone, pushed to the back of his mind.

"Well, you have good taste," Rachel replies with a playful nudge to his side. Then adds cheekily, "in everything except football teams."

Finn gives a liberal roll of his eyes. "yeah, yeah. Just wait until we're beating you in the league, then we'll see who's laughing."

She silences him with another kiss, this one deeper, lasting those extra few wonderful seconds.


End file.
